


Enemies in Anarchy

by NoTittyBimbo



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Needles, Other, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoTittyBimbo/pseuds/NoTittyBimbo
Summary: Anpac meets Anfash in the street, and goes home with him to heal his friend.Content Warning: needles, kidnapping, nonsexual torture
Relationships: Anpac/Anfash
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	Enemies in Anarchy

It was a week after the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone had been founded. My ideals wouldn’t let me be on the front lines, but I had worked in the makeshift infirmary with the street medics, treating people who had been beaten by cops or hit by tear gas. I felt like, maybe, I should have done more, but that was all I could do.

It was midnight, and I was taking a walk. It was weird to walk at night. I had always been bothered by cops, because I look vaguely ethnic in a mostly white town. Once they realized I was Indian, a “model minority” to those violent enforcers, they would leave me alone, but it meant I could never just vibe.

I walked by a man wearing a dark blue collared shirt and a skull mask. He looked at my chest carefully, and probably noticed the street medic patch that was half-hidden under my gray shawl, because he asked me, “Hey, are you a medic?”

There was a strange excitement in his voice, and that should have made me think. But I had seen good people act strangely when they were stressed. If he needed a medic, he was probably stressed about something.

“Yeah, why? Is there something I can help with?”

I could see the man’s cheeks lift from under his mask, like he was smiling. “Yes,” he said, “I have somebody at home that was hurt - attacked by Nazis. You know how those Nazis are. I was getting supplies, but maybe you can help.’

“Of course!” I shouted. I was always eager to help someone in need. “Let me go home to get my supplies.”

“I got the supplies. I just want someone to look at it.”

“We aren’t far. I’m staying with some friends nearby, and I want to make sure I have everything I need.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on.”

He walked off expectantly, and I followed him. I should have known something was off, but I thought he just wanted to get to his friend as soon as possible. He said he had just been getting supplies, so it made sense. Maybe I should have said something.

As I walked beside him, I realized how short he was. Not that there was anything wrong with being short, and I was taller than most people, but he seemed to get uncomfortable when I looked down on him. Instead, I looked forward when I talked to him.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked him, awkwardly.

“Anfash.”

“I’m Anpac. They/them, by the way.”

“Whatever. So what do you think about all of this?”

“I mean, it’s nice. I wish we didn’t have to be so violent to get it.”

“Yeah, there was definitely a lot of violence.”

“So much of it wasn’t even for anything.”

“Yeah, of course. A lot of it was just senseless, people hurting each other for no reason except the love of hurting.”

There was that glee in his voice again, but clearly he didn’t think that senseless violence was a good thing. No one could believe that. I tried to think of something to say, but by the time I had figured something out, we had arrived at his rundown shack of a home.

He unlocked the front door and let me in. The place was dark and silent. He led me into the basement, but where I expected to find a person suffering, I saw nothing but a bed and a few cardboard boxes.

“Where’s your friend?” I asked him.

“I don’t have anyone that needs help,” he laughed.

“Then why did you take me here?”

He sat me down on the bed, and looked down on me. “I like you,” he said. “I didn’t know how to ask you to come home with me.”

“You shouldn’t lie!” I tried to get up but he climbed on top of me. “Please,” I said, “let’s just talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, not getting up.

“I want to get to know you. You know, before we do anything.”

He removed his shirt. For someone so small, he looked strong. His chiseled abs and muscular chest left me speechless for a second, and he took advantage of that silence to start kissing me. He was aggressive, but didn’t really seem to have a lot of skill. Still, the passion turned me on, and I felt myself getting hard.

“Give me a second,” he said. He got up and grabbed some rope out of one of the cardboard boxes. I wasn’t comfortable with it, but he seemed so excited. “Can we do something else?” I asked.

He took off my clothes, ripping them off with little ceremony. At this point, I really should have known better. He had just lied to me. But there was an earnestness to him. I wanted to believe that someone like him would have wanted someone like me.

So I let him tie my wrists together, and to one end of the bed. Then he tied each of my ankles to the end of the bed. He worked quickly, and the restraints felt tighter than the light bondage I had tried in the past. It felt dangerous, and something about that was exciting, even if it should have been a red flag.

By the time I was fully tied, I was ready for him to have his way with me, but instead he went back to that cardboard box. This time, he grabbed a pincushion. It didn’t make sense to me, but he laughed, so I laughed too, hoping he didn’t know that I didn’t get the joke. He knew.

He climbed back on top of me and said, “If you squirm, it’ll hurt more.”

At first, I didn’t understand. Then, I felt him gently pinch the skin on my stomach, and I watched him grab a needle. When I realized what was happening, I tried to get away, but I wasn’t going anywhere all tied up. He pinched me again and quickly pierced me with the needle. It ripped through my skin, and I screamed, in part from pain and in part from fear.

“For shame,” he said. “This is going to hurt if you don’t stay still. I’m just looking out for you.”

He did the same again, a little bit further up and to the left. I summoned all my strength to stay still for this one, and it hurt less. “There you go,” Anfash said. “Good job, sweetheart.” 

That calmed me down just a little, so that he could keep working, moving up to the left side of my chest, down the middle, back up and around the right side. Then he wrapped white string around the needles.

When he finished, he said, “It’s a heart. Can I take a picture?”

Before I said anything, he grabbed a camera out of his cardboard box. I wondered why he didn’t use his phone. He took pictures and laughed and said, “You look so pretty. I love your little white heart.”

He bent down over me, gave me a kiss on the forehead, then pulled the white string. All at once, the needles all ripped out of my skin. Where each one of those needles had been, I felt a stinging pain. I screamed, but Anfash shushed me.

“I’ll fix it,” he said with a gentle giggle. He grabbed some rubbing alcohol from the box, and poured it directly onto my chest. I screamed again. I knew that it was good to sterilize the wound, but it burned, and I could feel the burning throughout my body.

“Stop it, please!” I begged.

“You’re okay,” he said, with that same tone, that mockery of kindness. He rubbed my forehead and repeated that mantra, “you’re okay, you’re okay,” until the words stopped meaning anything, until I let myself be soothed by him.

Suddenly, he grabbed the rubbing alcohol, broke down into laughter and poured it onto my chest again. It burned just as much as before, but the betrayal burned more.

“Please,” I said, fighting through tears. “Why are you doing this?”

“I just want my own little plaything.” He climbed next to me and laid his head on my chest. Next to me, he seemed so small, so vulnerable. “I’m so excited. I’m going to play with you so much.”

His words made me tense, but he didn’t seem to notice. Soon, as the tenseness faded, I was nothing but exhausted, and I fell asleep as Anfash ran his fingers through my hair.


End file.
